


the fork

by forgetfulgoldfish



Series: coping [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Drug Addiction, Drugs, drug addiction mention, drug mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 13:15:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9822155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgetfulgoldfish/pseuds/forgetfulgoldfish
Summary: it's 2:14am as i type this, i can't sleep. earlier today i was washing dishes and something caught my eye.these past several months have been rough, to say the least.





	

when you live with an addict, you obsess over details, because that's where the signs are hidden. they aren't obvious to a regular person, and seem ridiculous at first, such as one fork having a single bent tooth. but to you, these things soon flash as bright as neon signs; a reminder, a choice, a burden. little things are misplaced, missing, moved, you find yourself asking 'why are there black smudges on this rag?' you find yourself asking 'why are you asking for money when you've already gotten $20 today?' you find yourself asking 'where is that gun you just bought the other month?' only to be fed excuses, lies, fibs, and other synonyms. 

soon you start checking the pupils of every stranger you come across, not meaning to make snap judgements of their character right then and there but doing it anyway. you get caught up on minute things, such as where is that bottle of hydrogen peroxide i just bought the other week? whose voice is that that you can overhear on the phone? 

why DID that fork only have a single bent tooth?

you begin starting the next day with a racing heart and sweaty palms for seemingly no reason, you begin hiding your silver and jewelry for seemingly no reason, you begin locking and double checking and triple checking every opening in your home for seemingly no reason. you start to feel paranoid as the addiction spreads its infection, and without so much as a prediction you are part of the induction as well. you hollow yourself out to make room for all of these obsessions, all of these details, all of these meaningless yet profound facts, only to watch more sprout like weeds, never ending, always a new growth with the new day. any sort of weedkiller you have never works, and frustration mounts until you're left screaming in the middle of a forest. 

that's when you chop down those trees and use them to create the paper in order to be able to write shit down like this. you feel the lowest you can possibly be be never voicing that concern for fear that the universe would hear and take it as a challenge. 

and to think, this all started because that one fork had a single bent tooth.


End file.
